


Crash Into Me (and I come into you)

by spaceyquill



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, F/M, Light Bondage, Mutual Masturbation, Sex Pollen, Xeno, and the dubcon that comes with it, some semblance of a plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-02-22 10:57:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22714954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceyquill/pseuds/spaceyquill
Summary: Running into sex pollen on the job would usually be considered a highlight, unless you were Thrawn with a cultural stipulation that said you were spacemarried to the first person you boned. And here he is, locked in a cargo bay with smuggler Hera Syndulla.
Relationships: Hera Syndulla/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo
Comments: 18
Kudos: 95





	1. Umbara

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by the song Crash Into Me by Dave Matthews Band

Captain Thrawn led his stormtrooper escort through the bustle of Umbara’s largest dock. It was a wonder anyone avoided collisions as people and containers scrambled all around them, loading and unloading, inventorying, racing to finish their tasks within their docking window in order to vacate in time for the next slotted ships to land. The fevered pace put the esteemed Kuat Drive Yards to shame, and Umbara was merely a cheap landing zone on a popular hyperspace lane. 

He ventured past the Imperial ships and the commercial freighters toward the less prestigious zone of personal transports. With his promotion to captain, Thrawn had also received a new tasking: to discover and dismantle the smuggling ring which flooded Imperial markets with contraband slipped past Core World customs, costing the Empire an estimated tens of billions in missed taxes.

Thrawn chose to begin his investigation on Umbara, situated between Kashyyk—the origin of kyy pods, which when ground up became a popular flavor for beverages both inside and outside of the Empire—and Zeltros, a planet conveniently sitting on a delta of branching hyperspace lanes. With its inexpensive dock fees, Umbara was the perfect middle region where Thrawn would’ve selected to lie low, if he were a smuggler. 

His gaze landed on a familiar light freighter, exactly where the dock logs said she’d be. Perhaps he should’ve started his investigation with impartiality and chosen a commercial freighter with a higher probability of carrying contraband due to the sheer volume of goods they shipped, but if Thrawn let this ship go, he had no idea when he would see it again. Thrawn and the stormtroopers approached the ship and the green Twi’lek standing at the base of its open boarding ramp.

“And don’t come back until you find it!” she called after the squat orange astromech already rolling toward the city markets. She caught sight of the Imperial party and Thrawn heard her mutter, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“Captain Syndulla, what a pleasure to run into you like this,” he greeted. 

She folded her arms across her chest and stood as unwelcoming as a bouncer in front of her ship’s ramp. She still dressed the part of a struggling business captain. “Lieutenant Thrawn, I thought you were stationed on Gorse?” 

“It’s Captain, now. And my new posting is to dismantle the galactic smuggling ring wreaking havoc on the Empire.” 

“Well, good luck with that—”

“I was hoping to start with your ship,” Thrawn said. His hands were clasped behind his back in a way he knew looked non-threatening, but at the head of a stormtrooper squad, Thrawn saw the realization click in her eyes that she couldn’t refuse an Imperial search. Syndulla glowered. 

“I already submitted my departure request. My window’s in less than an hour,” she muttered, but still begrudgingly led the way up the boarding ramp—after she’d laid a glare into Thrawn. 

Apparently, she was not yet over Gorse. 

“I will not attempt to delay you unnecessarily,” Thrawn promised as he followed her across the spacious loading bay. On the far side, she hit a control panel and the entire back wall slid up to reveal the cargo storage room. Long crates in stacks of four lined the perimeter, with smaller stacks of boxes grouped in front, dividing the remaining floor space into sections. It was all nicely laid out, and Thrawn appreciated the organization. 

“The manifest,” Syndulla said, handing over a datapad. She cast a furtive glance at the stormtroopers who remained in the loading bay. 

“No need to worry. They are here in case inventory is necessary. If everything is above board I won’t—” Thrawn’s voice cut out as he skimmed the list of cargo. “Five crates of Kashyyyk durigo fruit?” 

Syndulla’s expression slowly hardened. “Perfectly legal.”

“In quantities more than ten kilograms, you must obtain a commercial shipping permit. Additionally, it is the only produce you’re transporting, thus it should not be stacked in and among the rest of your supplies here.”

Syndulla looked like she was about to search for that shipping permit, and Thrawn decided to save her the time. “Would you like to declare anything not included on the manifest before I find it myself?”

“Everything listed is exactly what’s here.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Thrawn said, drawing his blaster. Syndulla froze. Thrawn aimed it at the nearest container stamped with an icon of durigo fruit, and the echoing shot drowned out the captain shouting, “Don’t!” The hole smoked, and a fine powder cascaded out. Thrawn waved down the stormtroopers who had all cocked their blasters before approaching the sizzling crate. 

“This isn’t kyy pods,” Thrawn said. He reached out and let the dust spill over his hand, running through a list of contraband in his head of what this could be. To Thrawn’s surprise, Syndulla leaned close in inspection next to him. 

And then the pungent smell hit him. He and Syndulla both staggered back, but while Thrawn choked on the dust, Syndulla flew to punch the cargo bay control panel. The wall dropped, separating her and Thrawn from the stormtroopers. The troopers banging on the door was so faint that the flow of powder drowned them out. 

Thrawn stuffed his nose and mouth into his elbow as he retreated to the dropped wall, but that hardly shielded him from the powder’s effects. His eyes stung. His exposed skin burned. A pain gripped his temples threatening a profound headache, and the terrible cringe on Syndulla’s face told Thrawn he wasn’t alone in these symptoms. 

“You’re transporting Zeltros stimulant pollen?” Thrawn accused from the crook of his elbow.

Syndulla’s eyebrows spiked, and the outrage brightening her cheeks was a level of anger Thrawn had never seen on her before—including their run-ins on Gorse. “I don’t run drugs, and I certainly wouldn’t stoop to ferrying stimpollen! That should’ve been kyy pods!” Her fierce gaze was unwaveringly righteous for a woman who’d just confessed to smuggling. Even her coughing was vehement. 

Unrefined stimulant pollen wasn’t as potent as the product sold on the street or in underworld dens that could put a user in a haze for a week—but there was a lot of it still spilling out of the container. 

“Open the doors, get us out of here!” Thrawn demanded. His headache was a vice grip now; his throat burned from the pollen that got past his sleeve. And lower, he felt himself growing hard very quickly.

“It can only be opened from the outside,” she said between coughs, “by a member of my crew.”

“Then get your crew down here!” Thrawn wheezed. He sank to one knee, fully hard and aching from it. The odd angle at which Hera bent, face alight, betrayed similar discomfort. She pulled a communicator out of her pocket. 

“Chopper, return to the ship _immediately_ —it’s an emergency!” With a hiss she wrapped her arms around her lower half protectively. 

Thrawn pulled his mind back to the agonizing present when his thoughts drifted to the act of taking care of that ache. Syndulla was now kneeling as well, grimacing. 

“Why did you close us in here?” Thrawn forced out.

“Because we already breathed it in. And I wasn’t about to give your guards a chance of getting in on this,” she muttered.

“I asked you if you had anything to declare!” 

“I _swear_ I didn’t know the pollen was in here—you think I’d agree to transport the drug that’s keeping my people cemented as the sex slaves of the galaxy?!” 

Everything in Thrawn’s head was getting fuzzy now, softening his headache even as all his other senses sharpened. Lights were brighter, smells more obvious, and Thrawn was more aware than ever of his hard need. He balled his hands into fists just to refrain from grabbing anything involuntarily. “How long until your crew gets here?” Even with everything sounding louder, Thrawn still could barely hear the stormtroopers banging on the other side of the cargo door.

“With Chopper? No telling.” Syndulla squirmed, her face locked in a permanent grimace. 

Thrawn pulled out his own comlink. “Sergeant, take your men and search for the orange astromech belonging to this ship. Apprehend and bring it here immediately.” The stormtrooper acknowledged and the Imperials departed.

“Might not be a bad idea to think about, uh… taking care of this ourselves,” Syndulla said. Her words cut through the fog in Thrawn’s brain, and he stared at her with shocked clarity as she added, “And by that I mean: take care of ourselves _by_ ourselves. You over there and me over here.” Even as she said that she got to her feet and staggered around a wall of boxes, hiding from Thrawn’s view. 

The ache was unbearable now, and Thrawn’s hands seemingly moved on their own to unbuckle his belt and open his pants. His own heady smell hit him. He took himself in hand and began stroking, slow at first like his usual practice, but faster when it felt like that wasn’t working. A new scent wafted his way—foreign and intoxicating—and it took Thrawn’s addled brain too long to realize this was Captain Syndulla. And everything in him wanted more of it, to be surrounded by it, submerged in it. It lifted his thoughts into a fantasy that was more than just his hand as his hand desperately quickened and his erection started pulsing in the way it normally did when he was getting close. 

This had to work. This had to satisfy his pollen-induced lust because all other options were out of the question. 

Not long later, a soft gasp of satisfaction reached Thrawn, preceding a fresh wave of smell that was distinctly Hera. Letting himself get caught up in it, he thrust into his hand faster, wishing it wasn’t just a hand, wishing he could come already, wishing—

A groan sounded from the other side of the cargo hold, a much less happy noise from a moment earlier.

“Is everything all right?” Thrawn asked. 

“It didn’t work.”

Thrawn slowed his movements. “Explain.” 

“I… finished… and it feels like that wasn’t enough.” 

Thrawn set his jaw as his eyes fell on the mound of powder. From what he had learned of the drug, its effects should’ve dissipated after the initial hit—but that was in the case of small amounts of processed pollen. Both Thrawn and Hera were currently locked in the same room with a heap of it, constantly breathing it in. 

“Do you have a way to vent the bay?” he asked.

“Along with all the breathable air.” She must’ve picked up her communicator again because she shouted, “C1-10P, you get your bucket of bolts back to the ship _right now_ or I swear on my family’s Kalikori, I will deactivate you for good!” 

Her passionate outburst mingled with her smell aided Thrawn’s quickening pace, and with a sound he managed to reduce to a sigh, Thrawn came onto the floor. The climax was disappointingly dull for such a fevered ache, and the initial wave of relief evaporated a mere moment after it arrived, leaving Thrawn with even more lust-tinged frustration than before he started. Even after coming, he was still half-hard and slowly returning to his previous capacity. His terrible climax was made worse by the competing pain in his head. 

Hera rounded the boxes into Thrawn’s space, her sudden appearance forcing Thrawn to scramble to zip his pants up despite how uncomfortably tight it was. The heat on her face shone brighter than before, and Thrawn didn’t need to think about how that was from her recent exertion. She walked better than before at least, all the way over to the stack of durigo fruit crates to pull the remaining four down one by one and open them. Below the initial layer of actual green durigos, two were filled with thin kyy pods. The other two had their lids slammed back down on top of them and kicked across the bay floor. Hera wobbled.

Thrawn pushed himself to his feet. “Captain—?”

“I can’t believe they would sneak drugs into my shipments. And stimpollen of all things?” The hurt in her eyes made Thrawn want to hug her. Or perhaps that was the pollen’s influence. “If I find out this isn’t the first time they’ve done this…” All her building rage melted into another groan, and Hera folded in on herself. Thrawn tried his hardest to ignore the need gripping him once more. He pulled his commlink out.

“Sergeant, update.”

_“We’re still looking, Captain.”_

Hera shook her head as she sat down, grumbling, “If there’s one thing you can count on with Chopper, it’s that you can’t count on him if he’s out of eyesight.” She looked up at him and swallowed. “So… are we going to be pragmatic about this or just continue suffering?”

Thrawn’s mind flickered with a life of its own, and by the time it ceded control to him, he was already at Hera’s side, halfway to reaching out for her. He pulled back, jaw tight.

“We should give your droid time to return.” 

“If I thought we could wait this out, believe me, I wouldn’t be suggesting this. But this high is really starting to hurt.” 

Thrawn sat down next to her, leaning back against the crates. He had to grab his legs to refrain from angling toward her and her captivating scent, but his thoughts distracted by her was better than dwelling on the pain in his head and discomfort in his pants. 

“Please, Captain Syndulla, don’t ask this of me.”

“Look, you’re not exactly my first choice either, but my hand isn’t enough and you’re all that’s left.” 

Already he caught his hands trying to tend to himself involuntarily. This was torture. “Please understand, mating in my culture is a lifelong agreement. Acting on this”—he gestured to the pollen, but his hand also passed over his own addition still on the floor—“will cement you in my mind as my mate, and I will not be able to choose another one for the rest of my life.” 

“Oh,” Hera said at length, and Thrawn detected her disappointment and discomfort, just as the ache throbbed harder in his core. “I guess I’ll try my hand again.” She didn’t get up.

His erection twitched, and the next thing Thrawn knew, his head had lolled in her direction and she met him in a kiss, as if she’d been waiting for just that. The effect was immediate. His headache dulled in proportion to the duration of the kiss, a welcome relief in addition to Hera’s inviting lips. Not quite as welcome was the prickling Thrawn felt much lower, in anticipation of what a kiss like this could lead to. 

It had to have the same effect on Hera because nothing else explained her reaching a hand out and snagging it in his hair, keeping their mouths pressed together and eroding Thrawn’s willpower with each passing second. 

A moan from her startled his eyes open. She had her other hand down her pants, and Thrawn felt another twitch from his pants in protest. A moment later, he had it in hand again, stroking the length of it with a desperate speed. His mouth dropped open at the fantastic combination of experiencing everything at once, only for Hera’s tongue to slide into his mouth. This attempt was already a marked improvement from his first, and Thrawn couldn’t do anything else but moan in return. 

Hera pulled away first. She rested her forehead against his, the hand down her pants still moving frantically. “If this doesn’t work…” 

Thrawn tried to steer his mind toward crafting scenarios and possible solutions, but he couldn’t get past the euphoria just touching Hera created. She pulled him back in for a kiss that lasted until they both rode out their next orgasms. This wave of relief lasted longer, leaving Thrawn with time to breathe. 

“Do all your inspections go like this?” Hera asked as she retrieved her hand from her pants. Thrawn didn’t want to be the only obscene one and modestly zipped up his pants despite feeling the lustful ache attempt to creep back. Their combined actions had been better than Thrawn seeing to himself, but unless that droid returned soon, it still wasn’t going to be enough. 

“Do all your smuggling runs take this turn?” he asked with an ease as if they had not just far overstepped the lines of professionalism and propriety. 

Neither one moved from where they had helped each other get off. Hera’s head fell back against the wall of crates. 

“I’m never taking a job from this distributor again.” 

“A conviction of smuggling is at least a ten year jail sentence,” Thrawn said, and Hera didn’t flinch. “But the Empire is more interested in who is organizing the operation rather than who pilots the shipments.”

Hera’s determined gaze shot to Thrawn, as righteous as ever. “I can give you names and locations and their shipping schedule.”

“That would be most invaluable.” Thrawn shifted his hips to better adjust for his returning erection, but it wasn’t quite enough. “I am relieved you’re not remaining stubbornly loyal out of a sense of duty.”

Hera scoffed. “They’re in the stimpollen business. I hope they burn.” She hugged her knees to her chest. “I can’t believe I thought they were different.”

“How did you get into this line of work?” Thrawn asked, anything to keep his mind engaged on something beyond the desire to touch her. 

“It sounds ridiculous… but I thought if I make enough money, I could help my people. End my planet’s dependence on the spice and slave trades. Which isn’t something one person can do alone, I know, but I could still try. It also doesn’t hurt that I could flood markets with food or medical supplies and force vendors to lower their inflated prices. Poor people get sick too, and can’t afford medicine otherwise.”

“I understand the driving need to help your people at all costs,” Thrawn said. His hand landed on Hera’s arm before he even realized he moved it, and just when it looked like she was leaning toward him again, she lifted her commlink. 

“Chopper, are you even getting my calls?!” 

No response. 

“Where is he?!” Her lekku cringed like they had a mind outside of Hera, and were equally uncomfortable. She chucked her device across the cargo bay.

Thrawn found his own commlink at the expense of removing his hand from Hera. “Sergeant, any luck locating the droid?”

 _“None yet, sir.”_

As Hera grimaced at the news, Thrawn felt his ache grow again—mirrored by the rise in his pants. He focused even harder on the present, to retain control of his mind and as much of his body as possible. 

“Why did you say that stimpollen keeps your people as galactic slaves?” Thrawn asked. 

“It affects us more, chemically. I know you’re suffering, but it’s not as bad as what I’m feeling,” she said, and with a hiss pressed her forehead to her knees. 

“Is there anything I can do…?” Thrawn reached out once more and took her hand this time. A simple gesture, but it led to Hera bringing his hand to her lips. She balked.

“Sorry—pollen.” But the last of Thrawn’s restraint finally snapped and he dragged her into his arms. Their mouths met once more, familiar with one another now but desperate all over again. Hera’s hands traveled down Thrawn’s chest, their eagerness convincing him he wanted to remove all the layers separating them. It might’ve been the pollen talking, but at this moment, Thrawn could accept living the rest of his life in a one-sided relationship if he could take all of Hera for himself right now. Anything to satiate the growing ache, and his growing… 

He slipped his hands under her shirt, savoring the warmth radiating off her smooth skin. Touching her was as intoxicating as the pollen; the more he slid his hands down her sides, the further he wanted to explore—with his hands, his mouth, his… 

Hera pulled away from the kiss, eyes fluttering like she was only half awake. Thrawn closed the distance and she whispered against his lips, “I don’t want to make you do anything you’ll regret… it’s just so hard to stop.” He wanted this smuggler right now—for the rest of his life—a means of release. A mate. 

Thrawn’s mouth ghosted along her jaw, under her ear covers, and down her neck, taking in her scent, watching her skin glow enticingly with heat. “Then let us not stop.” He kissed her neck and the surprised gasp she gave made Thrawn pull back. 

“But you said—” His mouth closed over hers, all teeth and tongue and impatience. She unfastened his jacket, but he pushed her hands lower; there was no need to waste time with excess clothes when there were really only two things they needed to shed. Hera’s hands stalled at his open pants. 

As his mouth slowly traveled up Hera’s neck, she asked, “So what’s this about mating in your culture?” 

“It’s basically a marriage in yours,” he replied automatically. She balked under his lips and he lifted his head. “But I will not hold you to my people’s customs. Once we overcome this, you are free to live your life as you choose.” 

“And you?” Hera’s eyes shone with sympathy—something altogether foreign to Thrawn in his line of work: someone caring about him. 

All Thrawn could manage was half a smile. “I will remember you fondly, Hera Syndulla.” His ache was once more unbearable and he freed his cock as he gave Hera the closest thing to a reassuring kiss that he was capable of. And then he felt a hand snake between him and his cock to begin rubbing for him and everything else melted away. Thrawn no longer knew what the rest of his body was doing—he just knew Hera’s hand and his erection. He pressed into her touch; she reached under to cup all of him and Thrawn’s sudden groan took even himself by surprise. The smile Hera angled in his direction was far too pleased with herself. 

Thrawn couldn’t wait anymore—he tugged down on her pants.

“They unzip,” she said. In a maneuver that Thrawn wasn’t sure how she achieved, Hera straddled him while loosening a zipper that traveled well beneath her.

“But your underwear—”

“What underwear?” And he felt skin-to-skin contact in the one place that made his brain stutter to a halt. Her body slid across the head of his cock in a caress unimaginably gentle for the amount of coordination that took. He forgot how to breathe. This wasn’t anything at all like touching himself. This was… Thrawn pulled Hera back into another kiss, because he couldn't think of any other way to show appreciation at that moment. She slid across his cock a couple more times, leaving it slicker than the last pass before lowering herself down. And all Thrawn knew was heat and pressure and a pleasure unlike anything he’d ever experienced. This was being enhanced by the pollen, granted, but still the only thing Thrawn’s brain could respond with was an extended sigh. In a move that was more instinctual than anything else, Thrawn thrust into her and Hera gave him a teasing laugh. 

“Be patient! Let me get used to you, first.” She rocked her hips back and forth, taking Thrawn a little more into her with every movement. 

“My apologies,” he said with what concentration he could muster. “I’ve never done this before.” 

The shock of pleasure dissipating, Thrawn let his hands travel Hera’s body, down her back, her sides, to squeeze her breasts through her clothes and feel Hera lean into it. She pressed a hard kiss to his lips—and then started to move. Hera slid from his base to his head and back again, her rhythm slow in a way that let Thrawn savor the experience. He experimented with thrusts of his own in time with her downward movement. Her head lolled back and her lekku swayed—and everything surrounding his cock _squeezed_ at once.

Thrawn saw stars; his only way to communicate was in a groan. In response, Hera kissed him again, insistent. As her speed increased, so did his, jerking up to meet her. They rode together, turning frantic and uncoordinated. Their kiss broke, Thrawn’s hands fell to the ground where he could steady himself and focus on the growing pressure low in his belly—not the ache of longing, but the building towards promised release. His cock pulsed in anticipation.

Hera paused, staring down with wide eyes at where they joined. “What’s happening?” 

“It’s…” Thrawn had to blink through the fog of pleasure in his head to understand what she meant. “It’s completely natural for Chiss males… if it’s too distracting—”

“If you told me back on Gorse that you had a vibrating dick, I would’ve been so much nicer to you,” Hera gasped. With a buck of her hips, Hera rode him with renewed enthusiasm, and Thrawn’s head tipped back against the crates in a groan. She was a sight to behold, but Thrawn’s pollen-addled brain only focused on the beautiful building tension which Hera was stoking. His pulsing cock buried inside someone was an intensity of pleasure he hadn’t expected, and wasn’t sure his hand would ever suffice again. 

Thrawn realized his mouth was hanging open when something warm found its way in. Hera had stuffed the tip of one lek past his lips and now rode him with a very meaningful look in her eyes. So Thrawn took the hint and sucked her lek in further, running his tongue along it like he could thank her for her diligence with his mouth alone. Hera arched her back, moaning. Thrawn’s cock pulsed faster. Hera grabbed his shoulders, her pace just white hot friction now. 

The fantastic pressure where they met took him nearly to the edge and Thrawn forgot everything—himself, her, the lek in his mouth—and concentrated solely on riding this out. Hera shuddered with a moan as spasms wracked her body, and she clenched around him harder. Thrawn gasped as the tension broke and he came crashing down in an explosion of pleasure that coursed through his entire body, making every muscle resemble his vibrating cock, just for a moment. Relief washed over him in its wake, and for the first time since this predicament began, his head was wonderfully pain-free. 

He collapsed against the wall, spent, and pulled Hera against his chest where he could wrap his arms around her. 

“I vow,” he whispered in Cheuhn, “to remain loyally yours, as a lifelong mate.”

“What was that?” Hera asked, catching her breath. Thrawn could feel her heartbeat through their clothes. 

“It was nothing,” he said in Basic once more. Their breathing slowed together, and in the silence that followed, Thrawn’s discarded commlink easily carried across the bay. 

_“Captain, we’ve apprehended the droid and are bringing it back now.”_

Hera stirred in his arms, and for a moment, Thrawn wished they could remain like this forever. It was a ridiculous, fleeting thought, born of the strange sentimentality blooming in him from his first experience with his lifemate—and most certainly his last. She sat up on his lap, skin glowing beautifully with heat.

“I’m sorry about all this,” Hera whispered. 

“We were both victims of stimpollen. I hope you are successful in saving your people from it,” Thrawn said. 

Her lips thinned. “Once I’m out of jail, you mean?”

“No. I was sincere when I said the Empire isn’t interested in individual smugglers; direct me to your distributors and you are free to go. However, I will be confiscating all boxes of durigo fruit.” 

Hera pushed herself off him, and Thrawn didn’t know why but it was beyond satisfying to watch his come drip out of her before she zipped her pants back up. His smirk remained when he looked down and found himself limp, with no threat to harden again. 

“I won’t forget this, Captain,” Hera said.

“Nor will I,” replied Thrawn. Forgetting the woman to whom he’d given the Mate Oath would be impossible, and as Thrawn made himself presentable once more, he hoped his decision was worth it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what happened on Gorse, don't @ me


	2. Batonn

Hera eyed the infrequent stormtrooper patrols each time a roving pair passed her cantina window. Only a year ago she’d avoided a decade-long jail sentence by ratting out her old distributors in the smuggling and stimpollen business; keeping an ear to the ground, she learned everyone she’d named had been arrested by the Empire. Ever since, each time Imperials crossed her path, she feared with a sudden tension in her shoulders that they had finally come for her. 

It didn’t help that she continued smuggling within the borders of the Empire, and constantly ran into an Imperial presence of some kind. After realizing the next three distributors she applied to also had ties to either the stimpollen or slave trades—or both—Hera took the far less profitable option of going freelance. Just her and Chopper, always looking for the next shipping opportunity on their own. 

Batonn, a planet under the burden of Imperial blockade, badly needed food snuck past the Empire—and Hera was the one crazy captain who accepted. Now she attempted to enjoy a durigo soda in a Batonn cantina, her invaluable supplies waiting in her ship’s cargo hold to be unloaded, if only her contact showed up to receive them.

Fingers drumming on the table, Hera scanned the dusty street once more. No one here paid her much attention even though the majority of locals seemed to be human, and she was thankful for that. 

Her wrist communicator beeped with Chopper telling her that _he_ had met her contact and was unloading her supplies right now. Her jaw was halfway to dropped—this wasn’t the agreed upon rendezvous arrangements, and she’d not been contacted to change the plan—when a figure claimed the seat across the table from her, face hidden under the low-hanging hood of a cloak. The only part of the stranger which was truly visible were two blue hands. Hera stiffened. 

No—it couldn’t be. He was stationed on Umbara.

“What are you doing here?” His hushed voice sent a shiver straight through her lekku as a memory of her straddling a certain Imperial in her own cargo bay shot to the forefront of her mind. There was no mistaking Thrawn’s voice. Her cheeks flushed hot in response.

“Captain?” she all but gasped.

“It’s Commodore now.”

Hera couldn’t stop her eyebrows from shooting up. She raised her glass to him. “In this economy? I’ll drink to that.” Thrawn being a non-human in the Imperial Navy was unusual enough. But to have made it to the rank of Commodore which came with a ship? With as vast as the Empire’s military was, there had to be many fringe outposts where someone like Thrawn could have been stuck and forgotten, never scaling the ladder. Apparently he was too tenacious for that.

“Thank you. Again: _what are you doing here?”_

Whatever quip she tried to scrape together died in her throat. Denying Imperials a serious answer was usually high up on her list of priorities, but something about the tension in Thrawn’s voice killed her desire to toy with him. 

Instead, brain clunking back into working order, she managed to say, “I’m waiting. For a friend.” Even though that friend was apparently already aboard her ship.

“On a world currently under an Imperial blockade?”

“What are the odds?” she said, hiding behind her drink. 

Thrawn looked around. “Perhaps we can talk somewhere less populated?”

An automatic pang of worry spiked through her, but what was there to fear? Her ship’s ID had changed about ten times since Umbara, so the Empire couldn’t possibly match it to their records. The self-preservation corner of her mind worried that Thrawn could arrest her on false charges if he really wanted to, a common Imperial tactic, yet still some part of her trusted him enough that she left a couple credit chits next to her half-finished drink and followed Thrawn.

Walking outside, they doubled the number of pedestrians in the street. 

“What’s with the disguise?” Hera asked. 

“My appearance might otherwise bring too much unwanted attention, and I would rather walk freely.”

“Fair.” His grip closed around her wrist then, firm and warm, and she stepped closer to him when he pulled. 

“It is imperative you get off this planet as soon as possible,” Thrawn said, his voice unnecessarily low for the lack of people around them. But instead of his security measures, Hera noticed their proximity—her arm along his arm—and how it was enough to barrage her mind with all the memories of their last meeting. Her lekku tips curled in on themselves involuntarily. Along with these previously dormant feelings, some of her boldness was creeping back as well.

“But I was hoping to stay for a day or two. See the famous sites.”

“Batonn has no famous sites.”

Hera broke into a smile, despite the confusion coursing through her. Ever since their run-in with stimpollen, Hera had tried to sort her feelings out. She decided, eventually, that she would always remember her time with Thrawn as enjoyable, but if the stimpollen hadn’t driven them to it, it would never have happened. And now Thrawn was bonded to her and he was also an Imperial—dangerous not only because of that but also because Hera could so easily forget he was an Imperial and see him as just a man.

She never expected to run into him, and it had elicited a pang of guilt about Thrawn’s unique cultural situation. Now she was walking alongside him and that’s all she could think about: he thought of her as a mate—and not by choice.

He had yet to let go of her wrist. 

“Why do you want to rush me away?” she asked.

“Because there is a terrorist group on this planet which the Empire is about to confront.”

That didn’t seem so drastic. It certainly didn’t deserve the seriousness Thrawn framed it with, but he held onto her, pulling her along as if he could escort her away from all danger. 

“So what are _you_ doing here?”

“I wish to de-escalate the situation,” he said. “The leader of the terrorists might still be reasoned with, if I can only approach him without the Empire looming over my shoulder or his people looming over his.”

Hera arched a brow, a smile attempting to crawl back across her face. “First time I’ve heard the Empire attempt that avenue.” And with Thrawn out here sneaking around just as she was, it was clear that this was not an Imperial-approved tactic. Neither was his past decision of letting Hera go in favor of capturing her smuggling distributors, probably. 

Hera didn’t say anything as Thrawn diverted down a narrow alley and pulled her with him. Inside the shadows caught between two buildings leaning like eavesdroppers, it felt undeniably private. The clearance was tight enough that when Thrawn turned to talk to her, he nearly had her backed against a wall. Hera kind of liked it. He removed his eyewear and for the first time Hera saw his red eyes staring at her with such intent—and in the darkness they actually glowed. Her heart thumped in her chest. 

“Are you involved with Nightswan?” he demanded.

All her excitement fizzled out with the smile that died on her lips before it quite manifested. “Who?”

“Come now, as a smuggler you have no other reason to be here than to supply the rebels affected by the blockade. If you do not leave soon, you will not be able to escape before Imperial retaliation begins.” 

She wished she could wall off her feelings and approach the situation with only cold, distanced logic. Thrawn was trying to protect her from the Empire. Hera had worked jobs with partners who didn’t care this much about her. Stars—she’d worked with friends who would never have dared to stick their necks out for her as far as Thrawn was right now. 

So of course her feelings got in the way. Her hands found his arms, then his shoulders, and finally she pulled back his hood, exposing a blue face still as chiseled and angular as she remembered. 

“I haven’t been involved with anyone since we last… y’know.”

Thrawn stiffened. “Please, Captain Syndulla—”

“Oh, I think we’re far beyond the need for titles.”

His eyes narrowed. “You already know my predicament due to my cultural upbringing. This feels unnecessarily mean-spirited.”

“Don’t worry, I might tease another captain, but _never_ a commodore.”

She reached out and let one of her fingers slide along Thrawn’s bottom lip, her eyes following the slow movement. Of the two of them, Thrawn was the only one permanently linked to a single person. But when Hera thought about how Thrawn had cut a deal that let her avoid jail, and how he didn’t blame her for his predicament, Hera couldn’t deny that she had a special inclination towards Thrawn, herself. 

Maybe she pulled him closer, or maybe he leaned into it, because the next thing Hera knew, they were kissing. And she could’ve melted. Hera clung to him, her whole body relaxing as her earlier stress evaporated. 

Thrawn’s kisses grew soft, light. “I cannot stay long. I have business to attend to elsewhere.” As he talked, Hera’s fingers once more traced his lower lip. At the end of it, she earned a kiss on her fingertips. 

A scuffing sound came from the street, followed by the appearance of a silhouette at the entrance to the alley. “Hey! What’re you doin’ back here?” a voice demanded. Hera could see Thrawn reaching for his hood, but an idea came to mind and she dropped to her knees. She felt him jolt as her hands clamped onto his hips. It wasn’t hard to pretend to give him a blowjob when he was already hardening through his pants. His red eyes were vivid in the darkness, watching her. They grew all the wider when she closed her lips around him over his clothes. And of course she had to make this look convincing, so she moved her head back and forth. Thrawn grabbed the wall behind her. 

Whoever had interrupted them left them alone, muttering. 

Hera didn’t take her eyes off Thrawn as they held their poses in the lengthening silence. He cleared his throat. 

“That was quick thinking,” he said, his voice borderline hoarse. The man made no move to pull away, and the longing in his eyes was obvious—mirroring a growing need blooming inside of Hera. She unfastened his pants. 

“I wasn’t doing it _just_ for show.” She pulled his clothes down far enough to expose him and Thrawn let her. Her hand instinctively closed around his shaft. With a teasing kiss to the tip of his head, she asked, “How long do you have?”

“I can make time,” he breathed. That was the best thing Hera had heard all day.

She slid her mouth over his erection, taking him in as far as she could and sucked hard. Thrawn’s head tipped back, groaning. 

It was a powerful feeling, having Thrawn like this. Sure, Hera was the one on her knees but she suspected that in moments like these, if she asked for anything Thrawn would give it to her. Another part of her enjoyed having such an effect on an Imperial of such a rank. 

He shivered in her mouth. His size was imposing, but her hand easily covered the distance her mouth couldn’t reach, moving in tandem. The taste of him was new to her, not comparable to humans at all but not offputting, either. There was something arousing about making a man so reserved and expressionless show exactly what he was feeling. She ran her tongue along his shaft and watched him shudder. She sucked solely on his head and watched his jaw fall open. 

Hera wanted to test every trick in her repertoire just to see him react… but then his cock started vibrating. She thought she could power through it, but then it clattered against her teeth and she pulled back, laughing. Thrawn’s expression made her stop. His wild eyes had the look of a man tormented; a man denied.

Instead of complaining, however, he yanked her to her feet and into a kiss. Her hand found his cock and rubbed him steadily, despite the vibration shaking her arm. His kiss turned demanding. Hera kissed him to match, her lekku wrapping together in front of her shoulders to avoid getting squished against the wall as Thrawn pinned her there with his open mouth.

Hera felt a tug on her own pants. Thrawn unfastened them and the cold of the night air on her skin was chased away by his warm hand. Her breath caught. Thrawn’s hand zeroed in on the spot between her legs voluntarily, and his fingers began rubbing in a way she only had to correct once before his technique became amazing. The way he touched her, the way he treated her, it was… subservient? Worshipful? No other man she’d run into across this whole galaxy had wanted to unequivocally please _her._ She hooked one leg around his waist, opening her hips to his touch. 

A couple of his fingers slipped deftly inside her to begin a strong rhythm in and out, his thumb caressing her as she’d earlier instructed. 

“Where did you learn _that_?” gasped Hera. She grinded against his hand with the same need as he grinded against hers. 

“I’ve had time to read much material on the subject, just in case.”

His fingers coaxed a moan from her. Tension grew low in Hera’s belly, buoyed by Thrawn’s diligent touch. Her only reciprocation was hoping that her hand still stroked him, though her arm was growing strangely numb and light from all the vibration. The way Thrawn kissed her, he seemed to be enjoying himself still. 

His free hand hooked around her raised leg and lifted it higher, spreading her legs further and his fingers slipped in all the way to his knuckles. She had to break the kiss just to breathe—her concentration was already stretched thin. The tension built, making her legs shake. She didn’t even care if she looked needy arching into his touch, he had to keep going. Her breath hitched as she felt that familiar, beautiful climb. Her mind was all hazy. Her only thoughts centered on enjoying his fingers taking her to her peak and his tempo carrying her through the plunge, voicing her pleasure all the way. 

When the haze cleared and Hera came back to herself, she was clinging to Thrawn with her available arm, and only then did she realize her other hand was not shaken by any vibration. It wasn’t moving at all. Belatedly, she started stroking him again, only to be met with his chuckle and him pulling her hand away. 

“I’ve already come.” The words slid across her cheek in the wake of his lips.

Hera shivered as Thrawn removed his fingers. The tenderness of his touch was replaced by the cold bite of air and with no little regret, Hera untangled herself from him and fastened her pants again.

Thrawn followed her lead before pulling his hood up once more. “I really must be going; I would see you to your ship, otherwise. Promise me you’ll leave Batonn before you’re stuck in the inevitable crossfire.” 

“Are your de-escalation skills that bad?” she asked, arching a brow. 

“A question to keep in mind for the next time we meet, perhaps,” Thrawn said.

"Looking forward to it. I'll get out of your hair, then." It was as close to a promise as she managed, when she didn't feel like outright lying to Thrawn.

He bowed his head. “Until then, Captain.” 

The desire to kiss him crossed Hera’s mind, but immediately that felt like overstepping. Within the context of getting each other off was one thing, outside of that, it meant she had lingering feelings for him that transcended their intimacy. Pressing her lips together, Hera waited for Thrawn to leave the alley before taking off in the opposite direction, for her ship.


	3. Atollon

The Seventh Fleet hung like daggers over Atollon. Dropping out of hyperspace during the night cycle on this part of the planet had only helped the Empire’s surprise appearance, evidenced by the fact that the holographic image of the base’s Commander, Sato, wore a bleary-eyed expression. The man made up for it with his glare. 

“You may have discovered our location but we will _not_ surrender!” Sato said, the emotion in his voice carrying across the bridge of the _Chimaera._

Grand Admiral Thrawn, his hands folded behind his back, regarded the man coolly. It had taken him many months of parsing through seemingly unrelated intelligence reports to logically connect the dots across a galactic map and hone in on this system where the rebels had set up a secret base. This was to be a textbook fight. An Imperial triumph. “I did not expect you to, Commander. I will even allow your ships time to amass in formation to defend your base. You will have the valiant end you seek.” 

Sato’s gaze slid to something on his side of the holo transmission. “Captain Syndulla, are your pilots ready?”

Thrawn froze. He grabbed his own wrist just to keep from slipping into a posture of surprise. “Who is leading your fleet?” Thrawn demanded, a passion sharpening his voice to an edge. His uncharacteristic outburst hung in the air like an echo until a second holographic figure formed next to Sato. 

Hera. 

Everything about her hit Thrawn’s chest like a charging reek, from the baggy flight suit of a fighter pilot to the rebel captain rank pinned on her chest. Words slipped out before he could properly plan them. “I demand your fleet commander come aboard the _Chimaera_ where we will negotiate the fate of your rebel cell. I will _not_ accept anything else.” His gaze bored straight past Sato and into Hera, who held it like it wasn’t a direct challenge. 

Commander Sato reacted with the exact same surprise as Thrawn’s listening crew. It was Hera who filled the stunned silence.

“Fine. You know my ship—I better not have any trouble on the way up there.” With a flip of her lekku, she left the transmission. It was only the men once more, and Sato finally found his voice. 

“Grand Admiral, this is highly inappropriate! I am aware of proper Imperial procedure, and this is _not_ —” 

“I have no more need to contact you, Commander. Your fleet leader will speak on your behalf from here on out.” Thrawn nodded to the comms officer and the hologram of the rebel leader blinked out of existence. Silence permeated the expansive bridge as Thrawn marched for the corridor. He paused next to Faro. 

“You have the bridge, Commodore. If the rebels do anything before negotiations are through, you may respond in any manner you wish. I do not want to be disturbed for anything less than the Emperor himself.” 

“Yes, sir.” Despite her automatic response, confusion lurked in her voice, as well—the unspoken question his whole crew wanted to ask but dared not to. And right now, Thrawn was glad for it.

Thrawn’s mind raced all the way back to his office. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Taking the Mate Oath for necessity was never supposed to affect his job—his allegiance. For a fraction of a second, one thought whispered that Thrawn would be released from his oath if his mate happened to die, at the Empire’s hands or by any other means. He forced that idea far from his mind. Despite only interacting with her on two occasions the entirety of their partnership, Thrawn had long come to acknowledge Hera as a part of his life. A part to be protected. And he had hoped that her remaining in small smuggling circles while he continued up the chain of command meant they’d not have to run into one another… like this. 

Of all the places for Hera to be, it had to be here, on the wrong side of a standoff with the Empire. 

Thrawn reached his office with just enough time to mute future incoming calls from the workstation at his desk when the door slid open and two stormtroopers escorted a cuffed Hera Syndulla into the room. 

The space immediately grew smaller. Her glare confirmed that she had brought the charged sentiment from their holo conversation with her.

“That will be all,” Thrawn said with a wave of his hand. The stormtroopers retreated, leaving the two of them in a silent staring match.

“So, a Grand Admiral now?” Hera said at last. “I guess your de-escalation on Batonn worked.” 

“It did not. What are you doing here, Hera?”

“You called me to a meeting.”

Thrawn had never wanted to simultaneously kiss and throttle someone before. Hera standing defiantly in his own office only fanned that conflicted flame.

His next exhale forced the building irritation out of his voice. “With the rebels. I’ve kept tabs on you as best I could but you’re impeccably secretive. I thought your only role in the rebellion was as an occasional supply runner.”

“It was at first,” she said with a weak shrug. “But then they needed more and more help, so I stepped up where I could. Now I’m kind of in charge of the fleet.” Her durasteel gaze betrayed how purposeful her decisions in all this had been.

“Were you truly going to fight the Seventh Fleet?”

“Oh, absolutely.” 

Thrawn’s voice dropped low as he said, “But it would’ve been futile. You would’ve died. At my hands.” He lost all breath on the last part and Hera’s gaze finally wavered.

“I would’ve died at your orders—but those can still change. We can talk this out, Thrawn.” Her saying his name made him pause. “That’s the whole reason I’m here, isn’t it?”

“You’re here so I could remove you from harm’s way,” Thrawn said. “You must understand there is no way the Empire and rebellion can reach a settlement.”

“Not with that attitude,” Hera scoffed. She approached, rounding his desk with blatant familiarity in order to lift her binders in front of his face. “And when are these coming off?”

“I rather enjoy how you look in them.” He also enjoyed the heat blooming across her cheeks as her arms dropped. 

Hera had no control over her embarrassment, but she apparently tried to reframe it as anger with her narrowing eyes. “Don’t tell me you brought me here on the verge of a battle just for a booty call. I’m not going to be bent over your desk while my friends fight for their lives!”

“No one said anything about a desk.” Thrawn didn’t mean to smile, but the implication that Hera was already thinking about them in a compromising situation stirred something in him which derailed the logical half of his brain. It returned in full force moments later, dampening his smirk with the more realistic assumption that there was no reason for Hera to hold his cultural convictions. There was no reason for him to expect her to. Their first time had been bad luck; their second time had been a fluke. 

Disappointment dragging his mouth into a frown, Thrawn took a step back; just standing within arm’s reach of her prompted memories of their last time together. Batonn was over a year ago, yet it was still so clear in his mind, not just what Hera looked like up against a wall but the feel of her—

The sincere intensity with which Hera studied him made him consider the absurd notion, even briefly, that she could read his thoughts. 

“Well, the way you dropped all pretense at a negotiation with Sato the moment you found out I was here, I couldn’t help thinking you had something else on the brain.” She closed the distance between them, taking in the peculiarities of his uniform that came with the highest rank in the Imperial Navy. “I guess you can do whatever you want now with all those blocks. To me or whoever.” 

“I would never force you to do anything against your will, Hera. And I have never once expected you to uphold my cultural constraints,” he said. Offense burned in him at her terrible assumptions. “It is my burden alone.” He should’ve diverted their conversation back to the matter at hand, to keep the meeting professional, but Hera chose to invade his personal space once more and Thrawn rather wanted to indulge her as long as he could. 

“I… sympathize that you can’t pursue a future of your own because of stimpollen on my ship. I have no idea what it must be like to be bound to someone you don’t expect to see ever again. I imagine it’s awfully lonely,” Hera said, her soft approach smoothing his ruffled feathers. “My people aren’t half as strict as yours, but even we take mates seriously. Just knowing that there’s someone in the galaxy who sees me as a lifemate… I wouldn’t feel right disrespecting that by taking a mate of my own.” 

His chest tightened. He could feel his own heartbeat. “I release you of any responsibility to live by the Mate Oath.” 

“Well then how can I tell anyone my husband’s a grand admiral?” The cheeky smile she gave him momentarily overrode all thoughts in his brain. By the time he regained control, he was leaning dangerously close to Hera; he diverted what would’ve been a kiss into a forehead touch. 

“How are these negotiations going to work?” asked Hera, bringing responsibility and the real world back to the forefront of Thrawn’s mind. Reminding him of what separated them. He pulled away to see the determination simmering in her eyes. 

“We won’t be taken without a fight,” she continued. “Phoenix Squadron would rather die than surrender.”

“An exchange, then? The freedom of your cell—to flee until another day—while you and your ship remain here aboard the _Chimaera_.” It would be an impossible order to explain to anyone who asked, which would just be the Emperor and Thrawn’s naval peers; those in the Seventh Fleet would follow him no matter how strange his commands. 

Hera studied the floor as she considered this. “In exchange for the safety of the _entire_ Phoenix cell?”

“Yes.”

“What would happen to me?”

“Regulation mandates the brig until you’re transferred to a permanent holding facility. But I would give you comfortable quarters—”

“A nicer transport to jail? How thoughtful,” she interrupted, her gaze flicking back up to him. 

“—until you found an opening to escape from Imperial control, like I know you’ve managed before,” Thrawn finished. He watched the turmoil cross her face, and in an attempt to make the choice more palatable, added, “I would not give an order that would purposefully endanger my lifemate.” The heat bloomed anew on her face. 

“What’ll happen to you?”

“Nothing; I’ll be strategically absent when you escape. The guards on duty will fare the worst, which is unfort—”

Hera hooked her shackled wrists around Thrawn’s neck and pulled him into a kiss. It was the action that snapped Thrawn’s final strand of restraint. He leaned heavily into her and the familiar way she explored his mouth. Stress and responsibility and rank all melted away with her in his arms. They clung to one another, and only a delighted noise from Hera roused Thrawn out of the fog that’d settled in his brain. 

“Legally, I require a verbal answer from you,” he said, muffled. His lower lip disappeared into Hera’s mouth with a suddenness that stoked an ache in his belly. His uniform pants were already growing restrictive. 

“I agree to your conditions,” she said, followed by her hips pressing into his in what he could only assume was purposeful. Thrawn rewarded her with a groan before unhooking her arms from his neck. 

“I must inform the rebels of our decision.” 

“So quickly? At least make it look like I put up a fight.” 

That was all she needed to say to goad him into unlatching her belt, followed by her flight suit zipper. 

“Wait, are you really going to leave me in these?” Hera asked, shaking her binders. Excitement played at the edges of her round eyes. 

“Oh, absolutely.”

Something crossed Hera’s face then—a hunger, a determination. The same feeling tearing through Thrawn as he lifted her onto his desk. Her mouth eagerly latched onto his, and it was the best feeling in the galaxy, being wanted; desired. Whenever he was in her presence, all the levelheadedness on which he prided himself went out the window, and he was left with the emotional, carnal wish to stay with her like this forever.

Until the ache from much lower reminded him that merely kissing Hera was not enough to satisfy. Without even warning, Thrawn pushed her back and she obligingly reclined. Her compliance alone was arousing, but then he caught sight of her exposed stomach. It was like a moth to a flame. Thrawn kissed her between her open flight suit, the salty taste of skin enticing him to travel further. His lips slid down her abdomen, following her zipper.

Already breathless, Hera gasped, “Starting off with this?”

“I wasn’t able to reciprocate last time.” Thrawn’s mouth landed right between her legs where her body was hottest and her skin brightest. He only applied the lightest touch of his mouth and everything about Hera melted. It wasn’t often that a grand admiral in the Imperial Navy had reason to kneel, but Thrawn chose to here, draping Hera’s legs over his shoulders. His tongue traced the same patterns that Hera had taught him on Batonn when he was using his fingers. Back then she had merely appreciated it; now she was moaning. He easily slipped inside her, tasting her for the first time and watching her back arch higher the further he probed. He felt himself twitch with longing; waiting was torment but Hera’s reactions were priceless. 

Thrawn replaced his tongue with two fingers, leaving his mouth free to explore. He kissed the insides of her thighs, up to where they met, and settled atop where she’d taught him to rub her, tongue lashing. The restrained noises she made only spurred him on. He never imagined he’d be using his desk like this, and now he wouldn’t be able to forget it.

Hera’s fingers threaded through his hair and grabbed tight the moment he began sucking on her folds. The intensity of both his mouth and fingers increased with the pace of her breath, until finally she pulled him by the hair so hard he gave a sharp hiss as he was dragged away from her center. His mate stared at him, eyes blazing with intent.

“Rail me.”

Thrawn ached too much to do anything but comply. Wiping her from his mouth, he stood and rolled Hera onto her stomach. Thrawn wasted no time unfastening his pants, and was rewarded with an _“oh”_ from Hera when he aligned her hips to his cock. Sliding into her to be surrounded by her heat was pure bliss; Thrawn allowed his head to roll back as he savored every sensation. He had to approach every physical encounter with Hera with such mindfulness and reverence when each time could easily be his last. Thrawn established a slow rhythm to start, filling her deep then pulling out to the tip. 

“Looks like you wanted me bent over your desk after all,” Hera said, her smugness punctuated by his movement. 

“We couldn’t _not_ try it once you mentioned it.” His pace increased. Thrawn had missed this. Not that he didn’t enjoy his time with her on Batonn, but nothing compared to the feeling of being _inside_ Hera. He had to refrain from voicing his appreciation every other moment. Hera remained quiet easily enough, but the ends of her lekku twisted into tight coils and unrolled in time with his thrusts. 

Thrawn reached out and let his hand trail down one tattooed lek. She moaned at his gentle touch and rewarded him with a strong squeeze. As if in response, his cock began to pulse, and in conjunction with his pace, all he could feel inside Hera anymore was heat and pressure and friction. 

Taking the tip of the lek which had already curled around his finger, he guided it into his mouth. And sucked on it.

“Karabast!” Hera cried. She failed to elaborate and made no signs of protest, so all Thrawn could assume was that that was a good exclamation. 

Thrawn stroked her free lek as if he was stroking himself while his other hand held fast to her hip, keeping her exactly where he needed her. Everything from her moans to her shiver, to the way her lek curled around his tongue spurred him to thrust harder, faster—to elicit more reactions from her. 

Something about her on her belly, bouncing with his movement—and he had the perfect view to watch himself enter her—was mindblowingly enticing. Her bound wrists pleased him on a level he wasn’t expecting… and didn’t want to dwell too much on. But it all combined with the fantastic feeling of her slick heat to wind the tension in his core tighter to the point where the pleasure was actually driving him crazy. More than savoring the moment, Thrawn’s focus clouded with the single-minded need for release. His movement boiled down to muscle memory and instinct.

Thrawn took the tip of her other lek into his mouth. Hera’s gasp faded into a moan, and she clenched harder around him. Her lekku lashed about like two tongues; the more Thrawn sucked on them, the louder Hera moaned. Grabbing her hips with both hands and Thrawn yanked her into his thrusts. The tension in his core, straining greater with each second, was threatening to snap.

“I’m about to—” moaned Hera. Thrawn sucked harder on her lekku and Hera cried out before every part of her shuddered. Thrawn’s pace, fast and deep, benefited from every bit of Hera spasming around him. And just like that, he joined her, slamming into her and falling into colorful oblivion. 

He leaned heavily on the desk when he was done, breathing hard in a disorienting haze of pleasure. He released Hera’s lekku and they dropped onto her back as limp as the rest of her—looking as spent as he felt. Thrawn let himself enjoy the feeling of being inside her—memorize it—because there was no guarantee it would ever happen again. 

“Are you all right?” he asked when she hadn’t made a move.

Hera took a deep breath. “That… was fantastic.” 

Reluctantly, he had to pull out, and Hera rolled back into a seated position on his desk, her face satiated and glowing. Thrawn couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride at having given that to her. He pressed his forehead to hers as he caught his breath, aware of his disheveled appearance but waiting for his strength and motivation to move to return, first.

“I can see how you got to be a grand admiral when your negotiations are this thorough.” Her teasing smile disappeared when he kissed her. He wanted to travel the length of her body kissing her, but there was no time. 

“Successful negotiations require cooperation. I thank you for cooperating.” 

“And now Phoenix gets to escape safely?”

Once the Emperor got wind of the failure to eliminate an entire rebel cell, he would call Thrawn to Coruscant to explain this decision in person. How was it that the woman sitting in front of him had eclipsed the importance of the mission the Chiss Ascendancy had sent him here to do? 

“If I may now alert them of the outcome we settled on, yes.” 

“I guess enough time has passed,” she said with a playful sigh. 

“You certainly made me work for it.” 

Her blush was barely visible atop her previously flushed cheeks. Even with her wrists bound, Hera hooked her fingers under his chin and guided him into a gentle kiss. Thrawn allowed himself this one last comfort before everything was to irrevocably change.


End file.
